


fading away

by protosnake



Category: Cyberpunk & Cyberpunk 2020 (Roleplaying Games), Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protosnake/pseuds/protosnake
Summary: “You gon’ keep staring at me like some paparazzi or what?” Kerry says, turning his gaze towards V. His eyes glint mischievously, looking for trouble. “Or maybe this flick ain’t your speed?”“Oh, it’s my speed, alright,” V softly smiles. “Not much else I can do. I can’t even stand in the shower anymore, Ker. I’m just rotting in this apartment like some corpse.”Kerry’s expression sours. “Hey, hey — don’t say shit like that, ok?” He cups Vincent’s face with his hands, tracing the outlines of his cybernetic scars on his cheeks with a gentle thumb. “I know it’s been hard, Vincent, but—”“I’m still dying, man. It’s been 5 months. In a couple of weeks and I’ll be gone, whether we both want it or not.”(after v comes back from arasaka's research station, months later)
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Male V
Comments: 9
Kudos: 198





	fading away

“You look like shit, V,” Kerry, always a blunt asshole, says. The rocker leans on the bathroom door, observing Vincent like a piece of art. Well, if the art was actively decaying before his own eyes. 

Vincent snorts, turning away from the mirror to look at Kerry. “Well, aren’t you sweet.” He struts over to embrace Kerry, burying his face into the crook of his lovers’ neck. With a deep inhale, he can smell the faint whiskey and the subtle touch of Kerry’s cologne. 

“And you’re the one to talk. C’mon, let’s get your ass back to bed. You look like you’re about to drop on your feet.” 

“Right, thanks.”

The movie they’re watching is shit. Some 20th-century flick about a kid’s Christmas or something like that. Vincent hardly paid attention, rather he relished in the moment. The way the colors of the television reflected on Kerry’s face, the way Kerry’s face turned into a small smile when one of the kids stuck their tongue on a freezing pole and yelled for help, and the way Kerry’s chest rhythmically came up and down with each breath — all of memorizing Vincent enough to blur out everything else happening. All his attention was on Kerry, the old rocker boy that took his heart. 

“You gon’ keep staring at me like some paparazzi or what?” Kerry says, turning his gaze towards V. His eyes glint mischievously, looking for trouble. “Or maybe this flick ain’t your speed?” 

“Oh, it’s my speed, alright,” V softly smiles. “Not much else I can do. I can’t even stand in the shower anymore, Ker. I’m just rotting in this apartment like some corpse.” 

Kerry’s expression sours. “Hey, hey — don’t say shit like that, ok?” He cups Vincent’s face with his hands, tracing the outlines of his cybernetic scars on his cheeks with a gentle thumb. “I know it’s been hard, Vincent, but—” 

“I’m still dying, man. It’s been 5 months. In a couple of weeks and I’ll be gone, whether we both want it or not.” Vincent crawls out of bed, too weak to care if he looks pathetic or not, leaving Kerry behind shocked.

He walks out to the balcony and leans heavily on the railing, the pool lights illuminating the windows with a light blue glow. 

He’s always tired, exhausted from everything. Every morning he wakes up to coughing out his lungs until blood splatters onto his palm, every afternoon a splitting headache comes in that cripples him until Kerry practically force-feeds him his meds, and every night he hallucinates shit until all he can do is shut his eyes and pray for sleep. 

Most of the time, he sees Johnny, watching him like a hawk and whispering for him to just take a loaded gun and pull the trigger, other times Jackie, screaming he was the one that should’ve died that night.

Sometimes, Vincent considers his ghosts’ words. Maybe not by gun, but by taking a handful of pills and taking a dip in the pool — to never resurface for air. Usually, he talks himself out of it because of Kerry. It’s one thing to find your boyfriend dead, peacefully passed during the night, and another to find him floating dead in the pool hours later. 

Vincent groans, his head pounding. He stands and wobbles to the pool. Maybe that’s what he needs, a dip. To clear his head. He strips off until he’s only in his underwear. He’s right at the pool’s edge, staring at his reflection. He’s haggard, frail, and far from what he used to be months ago. He tips forward and Vincent’s enveloped in the water. 

In the water, Vincent’s head isn’t tearing itself in half. In the water, Vincent can imagine himself whole, before it all. He sighs, a stream of bubbles escaping between his lips. Through blurry vision, Vincent can see the dark sky and imagines himself as a better, healthier man. His chest spasms uncontrollably and he yearns for just another minute— 

Rough arms seize him by the armpits and he’s yanked up towards the surface. Vincent gasps loudly, coughing madly. By the time Kerry dumped him on the pool deck, he’s still coughing and barely dragging in Night City air. Blood splatters the deck with each cough. 

“Breathe, kid. C’mon,” Kerry places a hand between Vincent’s shoulder blade and beats down. “Get it all out, it’s alright.” 

Vincent groans, blood dripping from his lips. “’m sorry, Ker.” He whimpers out. “I just wanted quiet—” 

“I know, V. I know.” 

“You deserve better, Ker,” Vincent mutters. “You deserve someone to be with you when you get those fucking awards, someone to spend birthdays with and fucking marry, man. I ain’t good for you. I should’ve fucking killed my—” 

Kerry slaps him. Hard. Vincent looks up, shocked. He meets angry, teary eyes.

“You don’t say that. Don’t you _ever_ say that shit again, you hear me?” Kerry takes Vincent’s face with rough hands, forcing Vincent to stare at him — to stare into those enraged eyes. 

“You — no, fucking _we_ — are together until the end, do you understand? I love you, Vincent, and if it takes beating you until it gets through that thick skull of yours to understand then I will. Do I make myself clear?” 

Vincent nods and the grip on his face is harder. 

“Say it,” Kerry demands. 

“Yea— yessir.” 

“Good,” and with that, the pressure eases on his face. Vincent closes his eyes, more exhausted than before he took a dip. “C’mon, kid, let’s wash our asses and go to bed.” 

Vincent hums in agreement, allowing himself to be tugged into the shower. He takes a seat on the shower-chair, letting Kerry lather his oily hair with soft-smelling shampoo and then his body with Vincent’s favorite body washing. He lets Kerry dress him and half-carry him into bed only to drop with a soft _thump._

He curls into the sheets, inhaling the smell of the sheets and letting his eyes droop naturally. 

“Ker?” 

”Yeah, Vince?” 

“Do you regret getting together with me?” 

“Not even for a second, kid. Now, _rest._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii so fun fact: i have not played cp 2077 cuz the ps4 vers (which i play on) is fucking SHIT and i aint giving cd projekt red for an unfinished product :) so i based kerry's character on ytube clips. 
> 
> tbh the endings for this game is DEPRESSION n i LOVE IT so thanks for that cd projekt red
> 
> EDIT: had to fix a minor correction. teehee ignore me
> 
> also should i update with a chapter about vince dying? for the angst? for the drama? hm, thinking


End file.
